


We All Fall Down

by Lyrstzha



Category: Firefly
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dark, Deathfic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-02
Updated: 2006-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the second war between the Independents and the Alliance gets uglier, the Alliance starts using Pax as a biological weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deepfishy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Deepfishy).



After the news about Miranda breaks, things get a little crazy. It starts with protests and demonstrations and rumors of Parliamentary infighting. There's propaganda and spin coming from every direction before the week is out. It doesn't take long for the remnants of the old Browncoats to start organizing, and this time they find a little more sympathy in the Core.

At first, it looks as if the war is playing out all over again pretty much as it did before, except a lot more evenly matched this time. There's battles and there's losses, and if there's a couple of moons that'll be years rebuilding before they even have _rubble_ again, well, there's also several stretches of space that are littered with the jagged silver fragments of Alliance cruisers, waltzing slowly together in the black. It gets harder and harder for the Alliance to keep their food supply lines open from the arable Border worlds, until there's rationing on Londinium and Sihnon.

And that's when the Alliance starts using Pax as a biological weapon.

They release it on Border and Rim worlds alike, leaving folks lying down to die or turning Reaver wherever they go. There's some outcry, sure, but things have gone way too far to stop just because a few liberals get a little squeamish—at least, that's how Parliament puts things. Reaver hunting parties waylay both sides alike, but even that doesn't put the Alliance off.

Of course, Serenity's been spying and supply running for the budding Independent forces pretty much from the beginning. Mal and Zoë still have plenty of contacts among their old war buddies, and they've got missions lined up before most folks even know the old Browncoats are on the move again.

When the word comes in about the Pax, something goes even colder and harder in Mal, some last corner the first war missed somehow. Zoë hasn't smiled since Miranda anyway, but maybe her eyes get a little flintier. It's hard to tell.

The Guild tries to recall Inara early on with all the rest of the non-Core Companions, but she only sends them back a formally-worded wave declining the order. Her Client Registry access code stops working a couple of days after that, but she talks about organizing the remaining outlying Companions into a new guild.

Jayne grumbles about getting dragged into this—he don't need no war, gorram it, where's a man find profit in that?—and he threatens to leave a few times, but somehow he never quite goes.

Simon also talks about jumping ship, makes a few noises about getting River someplace safe at first, but she won't have any of it. There's no making that girl do anything she doesn't want to do anymore.

If Kaylee thinks about going home, she doesn't say so; Mal mulls over sending her anyway, but it's not like that would be any guarantee that she'd be safe. At least, that's what he tells himself.

They're lucky for quite some time, until they're caught still dirtside when Pax is released on Triumph.

River starts running for Serenity, screaming, maybe three minutes before the Pax goes airborne. By this time, nobody questions her instincts; Mal drops his deal right in the middle and leaves his contact staring open-mouthed as he pelts off with Jayne and Zoë right behind River. She tears through the ship to the pilot's chair, slams the vent controls to closed, and starts prepping for take-off so fast that she splits the nail of her index finger right down to the quick on one of the toggles, leaving red smears where her fingers flutter frantically across the console. It takes Mal about a dozen tries before he can understand what she's babbling about, but by then the panicked comm traffic might have told him anyway.

They lift off and break atmo so fast that Serenity shakes like she's going to fly apart. Mal's not so much of an optimist, but he needs to think that they're okay. That'd be easier without River climbing under the pilot's chair and starting to cry so hard it hurts Mal's throat to hear it. Simon crawls halfway under with her, but her wailing still claws at the air no matter how he tries to comfort her.

The bridge is cramped with all of them lingering there, watching Triumph dwindle into the distance as they burn hard away into the black.

"Will they be—?" Kaylee doesn't finish the sentence.

Zoë's soft voice shouldn't carry over River's cries, but it does. "No. Ain't nothin' we can do for 'em. Triumph's gone."

Jayne's fist hits the wall with an echoing thud. "Hell with them, what about _us_?"

Simon curls clumsily over himself to peer up over his shoulder, River's arms still wound tightly around his neck "I...I can't be certain. I don't know enough about how Pax works on the brain to be sure what to look for."

There's really nothing to be said to that, so they all hover restlessly, awkwardly speechless.

Maybe five minutes later, Mal's not as surprised as he would have been before Miranda when Zoë is the first to slowly slide to the ground. Her collapse is almost graceful, and the look on her face...it's horribly peaceful. The others should be saying something, should be terrified and desperate, but instead they just follow Zoë down to the deck one after another. Even River isn't crying anymore.

Mal stays on his feet longer than any of them, trying to pull his crew back to life by sheer force of will. He tugs at arms, prods at ribs with his boots, tries to change the settings on the ventilation systems for all the good it will do. But the lassitude creeping over him weights his shoulders and makes him stagger; it seems so much easier just to lean against the wall, and finally even that is simply too much effort.

Mal slides down the wall into a loose-limbed sprawl, face turned to press his cheek against the kiss of the cold grill of the deck, but he manages to keep his eyes open for maybe half an hour more after that. He's still watching when Jayne pulls himself upright, shakes himself like a wet dog, and begins to tear at his own flesh with an ululating cry.

Mal decides that it seems like a good time to close his eyes then.


End file.
